


Stolen Glances

by writerindark



Category: Veep (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 01:49:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11197935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerindark/pseuds/writerindark
Summary: A drabble on my favorite pair from Veep.(Keep in mind that this is my first attempt at fanfic, so I'm open to tips).





	Stolen Glances

There were little things.  
He felt like a voyeur sometimes, glancing at her from the side as her nose scrunched up while she ferociously typed on her phone.  
Or when her blonde sheet of hair swung along her shoulders when she hurried to whatever duty she’d been assigned, her heels clicking down the hallway in an amusingly rushed rhythm.  
Her eyes lit up and went wide, he noticed, whenever she was focused on something- a file or TV screen or even his own face, surely spouting something dumb that she could read through and correct in an instant. Her eyes, green and grey.  
Her face would assume a quiet intensity as she worked, her lips pursing as she ruminated and mumbled to herself.  
He noted the surety of her stance, defiant and strong despite her short stature, much smaller than his lanky, tall frame. Sometimes he liked the fact that he towered over her.  
But then, a moment or a glance can only last so long. They would bicker and exchange harsh words, ridicule and insult each other in a way that pushed those feelings to the corners of his mind and he wondered how he could think of her in any other way than an adversary, an insufferable coworker and constant foil.

There was so much about him that annoyed the hell out of her.  
His freakishly long gait that always put him a few steps ahead of her, like a perpetual one-up.  
That smug grin on his face all the time, so casually obnoxious.  
How she sought his approval without meaning or wanting to.  
How he wrung his hands when he was anxious, fingernails overly filed and narcissistically groomed at all times, like his hair that never fell out of place.  
How she felt a lightness in her chest whenever they’d accomplished something together and his grimace would melt away for just a moment into a goofy smile that showed all his stupidly perfect white teeth.

 

Glancing up from her phone, she would often see his eyes dart away from her quickly, resuming focus on his work. She thought he had probably noted some flaw that he’d criticize later. He hoped that she hadn’t noticed, and thought he would have to make up some insincere insult to cover it up.  
But in that moment between, their gazes had intersected in an instant void of cynicism and shields of defense, a millisecond in which they weren’t sparring, or sizing each other up, or collaborating on some political agenda - just two people, locking eyes, wordless in a precious moment in time.


End file.
